


7 Minutes of Gay Sexual Tension

by GoddessOfShitpost



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Mrs. Hudson, Basically a tribute to Mrs. Hudson, I love Mrs. Hudson, JOHN HAMISH WATSON TOPS, M/M, Mrs. Hudson is all of us, Mrs. Hudson ships Mystrade and Johnlock, greg lestrade is one sly motherfucker, lowkey a crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:25:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9062311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfShitpost/pseuds/GoddessOfShitpost
Summary: Christmas never seemed more insane in the 221B flat than this particular one.[Merry Christmas, ya'll!]





	

221B was a _mess_. Red solo cups littered the room. The strong smell of liqour of cheap beer and fancy vodka —surprisingly from Mycroft, lingered heavily in the air. Everyone was drunk. Lestrade stood on top of the kitchen table, still covered by experiments involving different body parts, singing "Let it go" from Frozen. Mycroft was nowhere to be found, er— unless he was the loud snoring from under the sink. And Mrs. Hudson. Well. Mrs. Hudson obviously still had some moves. From her...past. It was terrifying, really. Nobody wanted to see that. Molly was stumbling around the room, she was telling the (untrue) tale of how she helped Sherlock fake his death and then he kissed her. Obviously, she's heard a lot from The Empty Hearse. She seems to really like that particular one. John was a giddy drunk though. And very stupid as well. Which meant, stupid ideas were in the making.

Sherlock was sober for a good hour or two, until John "accidentally" switched his water with strong, Russian vodka. In less than eight shots, he was drunk. So drunk he agreed to play a game that Sherlock, would never, ever consider to play, even if his life depended on it.

7 minutes in Heaven.

"So, w-how, it wor..ks, you know all, right?" John tried to say, mumbling, incomprehensible. Somehow, they all understood. Drunk apparently was a universal language. Molly giggled as John started to spin the green bottle. He could hear Molly mutter "Oooh! I hope it'll be Sherlock and me." to herself. John shot her a cold glare. "Not on my watch." He whispered the threat. "John! And Sherlock!" Lestrade exclaimed, giggling. Molly snored softly with her face planted to the ground. John turned incredibly red. On the other hand, Sherlock's face was unreadable. It's almost as if he was sober. The moment was interrupted by loud clanking under the kitchen sink. Everyone turned to the source of the sound. "Mycroft-baby?" Lestrade muttered, eyelids barely open. Molly somehow woke up, giggling at Lestrade's open confession. Mrs. Hudson had stopped grinding on the fireplace. Still terrifying. A hand opened the shelf doors and Mycroft's face peeked out. "Why did you all s-stop? I just wanted to say.." Mycroft's groggy, mumbly voice trailed off. "-That's Sherlock's been practicing for this very moment on a kissing dummy." He finished and there was a moment of silence and looks at Sherlock before everyone burst out laughing. Mrs. Hudson finally had sat down next to Lestrade. "Oh, I knew it! I actually found it once! And I absolutely knew it was for him!" She nudged at John. Sherlock was red, redder than his usual drunk red. John looked mostly dazed and confused. "Well! Get to it, then!" Mrs. Hudson pushed both of them into Sherlock's closet.

John and Sherlock shared a moment of heavy breathing before John had gotten sick of it. He pulled at Sherlock's collar and whispered into his ear. "Let's turn this into a game, shall we? No touching. No kissing. No anything. Win and you get so much more than just making out after this. Deal?" John's hot, shallow breaths tickled Sherlock's ear, making them an even brighter red, if that were even possible. 

And so, they sat there and even though John was the one to propose the idea it took all of his well-being and will to not just screw the man right then and there. Hell. No one would care, right? 'But no, John, this is a game of strengths! You have to get through this!' John convinced himself. He kept repeating this the whole time. On the other hand, Sherlock just stared at him. Even though it was dark in the small closet he could still see the way John's lips would shine from the small rays of light that got through from the cracks. He observed him. Yes, he was nervous and sweaty. And god, he was hot.

'Wait, what am I thinking?!' Sherlock thought to himself.

They waited for what seemed like ages. The tension grew so thick neither of the men could breathe evenly. 

Suddenly, a ray of hope entered the widening crack of the closet door. Mrs. Hudson's sweet face peeked through, clearly disappointed. She opened the door and they both hopped up, trying to regain their confidence. They walked with Mrs. Hudson towards the bedroom door when she suddenly grabbed them both by the ears and put them near enough to her mouth that they could hear her. "You two better screw so fucking loudly later that your neighbors file complaints to me." She whispered, tone very different from her usual sweet elderly demeanor. She slapped both of their asses out of the door.

After, a few rounds of the green bottle spinning (Mycroft and Lestrade) and spinning (Molly and Sherlock) and spinning (Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft, which was horrifying for everyone. Especially Lestrade). Molly accidentally broke it when she fell on it while still dazed from being with Sherlock. Needing medical attention for the bits of glass stuck to her back, they all decided to call 999 and call it a night.

John smiled and led the drunk, giddy people out of the flat. Mrs. Hudson was the last to go, flashing a wink to the already very red Watson. He finally closed the door. Leaning his weight on the door for support. Sherlock and him were the only two in the room. Sherlock stood up, almost as if suddenly completely clearheaded. He walked over to the door, as if it was nothing, like he was just grabbing his coat, like normal. John thought nothing would happen until he felt two strong arms cage him in his place. Hungry lips crashed against his, Sherlock's hands moving to John's wrists to hold them upward. "You have no damn idea how much I've wanted to do this since that night we met." John managed to say in between breaths and kisses. 

Half an hour later, they were a panting mess. Sherlock groaned, ass still sore. John unexpectedly flipped positions halfway and Sherlock had never come so hard in his entire life. Both of the sweaty men were beet red, legs still tangled with each other's. John faced the tired, gasping man beside him. Even at this state, he was still as gorgeous as ever.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes."  
"I, uh, erm-"  
"Oh I'll just say it for you-"  
"No,no,no! That would be ridiculous!"  
"Say it then!"  
"Iloveyoutoo, John." Sherlock said, rushed, but meaning each word with utmost sincerity. John planted one last sweet kiss on his lips as they fell asleep in each other's arms.

\-------

Meanwhile downstairs, in Mrs. Hudson's homely flat, Mycroft, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson herself sat, slowly sipping tea as the bed rattling stopped. 

"That was the most embarassing thing I had to do...in front of my brother." Mycroft chimed in, looking in Lestrade's general direction. Lestrade smirked. Mrs. Hudson smiled sweetly. "Oh, Lestrade didn't seem to mind acting as your boyfriend, Mycroft." She said, winking at Lestrade behind her porcelain cup. "What I don't understand is why we had to act drunk too. I understand Sherlock absolutely needed to get laid but, even still." Lestrade trailed off. "They wouldn't feel pressured that way. All felt necessary at the moment. That's what they needed, a good, somwhat insane environment to make the tension unbearable." Mycroft explained. "See? He gets it. It's wonderful that you helped us here, Mycroft, knowing your relationship with your brother and all." Mrs. Hudson pour herself more tea. "Even I saw the thick tension between them. It was awkward and unbearable to be in the same room as them when all they did was ogle at each other." Mycroft scrunched up in mild disgust. Lestrade glanced at his watch. "Looks like it's getting late. Better get going, tomorrow's a Monday after all." Lestrade grabbed his coat as he walked out the door, nodding their way one last time as he exited. "What's that stuck to your cup?" Mrs. Hudson noticed a small torn piece of paper stuck on the bottom of the porcelain. Mycroft picked it up from and read the slightly smeared ink. It said "Call me" in Lestrade's handwriting and his number. Mycroft turned a soft hue of pink. He mouthed something along the lines of "Sneaky Bastard" and stood up. "I-hm, have to get going too, then." Mycroft mumbled, pocketing the paper in his breast pocket. "Oh! Alright. Thank you again, Mycroft." Mrs. Hudson grinned at him, knowing exactly what was written on the paper. She closed the door behind him and hummed happily as she cleaned up her new tea set.

She had successfully set up two couples today.

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to say merry christmas and happy holidays! MAY THE OVERLORDS MOFFAT AND GATISS HEAR OUR PRAYERS.


End file.
